Ring of Stone

A Novella by Bronwen Welsh

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Part Six - Grassmere and Castlerigg

I awoke to an overcast sky and after breakfast, loaded up my car and headed north-west to pick up the M5 and later M6. The motorways are handy for traversing the country quickly, but I confess I was happier when I finally reached Cumbria and took a left turn to drive past Kendal and through Windermere, finally arriving at Grasmere in the mid-afternoon. I stopped at a florist's shop for a small posy of flowers, and walked the short distance to the churchyard. The chilly day with threatening rain had discouraged visitors, and there seemed to be no-one from the church to ask for the location of Leonora's grave, so I set about searching for it myself, and after about ten minutes I found it. It was the oldest of a group of three headstones and also the most ornate. I bent down to look at the inscription which read as follows:

Sacred to the memory of Richard Charles d'Anglais, Kt, born 25th July 1791, died 4th Aug 1852. Aged 61

Below it was inscribed: and of his wife Leonora Elizabeth, born 2nd May 1793, died 8th Aug 1868 Aged 75

I stood looking at the inscription for a while. So Richard had been knighted, like his father, — presumably for services to the law. That meant Leonora would have been addressed with the courtesy title of 'Lady d'Anglais'. Another little bit of information. She had also outlived him by fourteen years. That must have been hard for her, and perhaps quite lonely. While she did have quite a large family, by then they would have all been grown up and probably moved away.

It was as I knelt to place the posy at the foot of the stone that another line partly obscured by some grass caught my eye. I cleared it away to read -

and of their son Richard John, born 4th Sept , died 7th Sept 1814, aged 3 days.

I had held my emotions in check until that moment, but now as a drizzling rain started to fall from the leaden sky above, so tears started to roll down my cheeks. Poor Leonora and Richard. I could not imagine how it would have felt to lose their first-born son. Was it something one could ever recover fully from, no matter how many children came afterward? It must have been even worse for Leonora to lose the infant she had nurtured in her womb for nine long months, and more so with the knowledge that in generations to come with the advancing of medical science, their child might have been saved. I had wondered if there was any significance in the black dress she was wearing in the photograph Aunt Mary had shown me. Was she then still in mourning for her baby son, or had it been for another family member? That I would never know.

I knelt there for a long time, oblivious to the rain soaking me to the skin and making dark tracks down the headstone, and then something happened. A feeling of peace came over me and began to raise my spirits, and a thought came into my head. Indeed it was more of a demand than a thought — 'Go to Castlerigg at dawn.' it insisted, over and over again.

“Yes, Leonora, I will,” I said out loud, attracting curious stares from a couple walking past, who half-paused and then hurried on. For the first time in hours, I smiled.

I walked back to my car and took the road north to Keswick, checking into the same hotel where Leonard and I had stayed all those years ago. I think it had changed hands and in any case they were hardly likely to remember me. As I checked in for one night, I told the Manager that I intended to get up very early the next morning, and go out for a while, but that I would return for breakfast if I was in time, and pick up my belongings and settle the account. I set my alarm for five o'clock, and went early to bed.

I was awake shortly before the alarm sounded, had a quick shower, dressed and boiled the jug provided for a quick cup of coffee before stepping outside into the brisk morning air. The weather had cleared during the night, the sky was filled with stars, and Venus blazed overhead. Getting in my car I drove up the winding road to Castlerigg and parked in the lay-by opposite the gate. There was no-one else around and all was quiet. I had had the foresight to bring a small torch, nevertheless, as I walked up the pathway to the circle, a grazing sheep wandered into my path, startling both of us and I carried on with a wildly beating heart.

At the circle I could just make out the stones in the starlight and could see a faint glimmer of light in the eastern sky. I walked slowly around the circle, the only sound being my feet on the sodden grass. When I arrived back at the western side of the ring I stood and waited. What it was that I waited for I did not know, but I knew I had to be patient. The only change was the gradually lightening eastern sky.

All was quiet as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the new day, and then something did happen. At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me as the stones on the far side of the circle seemed to be fading. Then I realised that a mist was rising from the ground, slowly growing thicker, and swirling in strange eddies about the height of the stones, completely obscuring most of them. I looked up and the stars were gradually fading before the advancing dawn. Only Venus was holding out against the brightening sky. I looked across the circle and it seemed to me that the mist was starting to fade except in one area, and then that faded too and I saw that I was no longer alone. On the far side of the circle a young woman clad in a long white gown was seated on one of the smaller stones, bent over a sketchpad, busily drawing. I breathed as silently as I could, not daring to disturb her. After a couple of minutes she seemed to become aware of my presence, and slowly lifting her head, turned in my direction and gave me the most wonderful smile.

“Leonora!” I breathed, and lifted a hand in greeting. It was at that moment that the first rays of the sun appeared past the brow of a distant peak, shining directly into my eyes and dazzling me. I gasped, blinking and rubbing them, and when I looked again, she was gone. No matter, this vision was the final proof, and I could not do other than believe that every word I had read in Leonard's letter was the truth. What power this ancient site held to bring together the past and present generations I will never know, and many would say I deluded myself, but what I saw, I saw. I slowly turned away, and the stones cast long shadows before me as I set off down the slope to my car to return to the hotel. After breakfast I took the road south.

Driving back to Oxford my mind was consumed with thoughts of Leonora. I realised that I actually knew very little about her life; I knew the dates she was born and died; her six children; that she married Richard and became the mistress of a substantial household, and her love of sketching and music. It was not a lot really. What a pity her journal had been lost. That would have been really interesting to read. I decided I must ask Aunt Mary if there was any more information available about Richard and Leonora from other sources.

I wondered too if she was ever tempted to reveal more about herself to Richard but I thought it unlikely. Such revelations would surely have led him to think her mind was disturbed and cast a cloud over their happiness, so what would be the point of it? I'm sure she developed the habit of never speaking about what was then current or future events before taking the time to consider what she should say and making sure it did not reveal her knowledge of the future.

Next time: The perfect woman